


Vrai amour vient à qui sait attendre

by okaypompeii



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-23 21:13:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okaypompeii/pseuds/okaypompeii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>True Love Comes to Those Who Wait</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Enjolras sat at the table and pondered, which was not very un Enjolras like. He thought of lots of things. Politics, the environment, humanity. That’s the thing about Enjolras. He was always thinking of bigger things than himself. Always thinking of philosophical topics such as equality and liberty and fraternity. These were the words Enjolras lived by. He wanted a world of equal opportunity.

Today, he was being particularly selfish though. He was thinking of how he ended up in a place like this. He was at the Musain, a particularly old and revered strip club. This one, was a bit different than the rest though. Here, men performed for other men. Sometimes women were in the crowd, but mostly they were men; of all sexualties. 

“Enjolras! What is this about a pay raise?!” Monsieur Thenardier shouted. He threw open his office door and looked around the room. He set his eyes on Enjolras, seated at a table in the back corner.

Enjolras sighed. “Monsieur, we are getting paid less than all the other clubs and our tips far exceed theirs! We deserve to be treated equally. You wouldn’t want me to call Monsieur Valjean and tell him that not only are you stealing, you’re underpaying his workers, would you?”

“You think you’re so tough.” Thenardier spat. He grumbled and continued to stare down Enjolras. Finally he responded. “I’ll see what I can do.” He then walked swiftly back into his office and slammed the door.

“Ahh Enjolras! Negotiating pay, I see.” said Courfeyrac, wobbling over in a pair of black heels.

“Yes. We might finally get paid what everyone else is.”

“You and your equality.” Courf chuckled. He then turned around and patted his butt. “Do these jeans make my ass look good?”

Enjolras scowled. “Why are you wearing those?” He nodded towards the heels and at the jeans.

“I’m trying for a new look.” He replied cheekily. “The crowd seems to love it when you and Jehan dress femininely. I thought I’d give it a shot.” 

Enjolras grimaced and before he could set Courfeyrac straight a loud crash came from behind them. They both whipped around to find Marius standing over several broken bottles of top shelf liquor. His eyes were wide and pleading as he looked over at Courf and Enjolras. 

Enjolras scowled. “I’ll get the mop.” he said as Courfeyrac doubled over in laughter.

“Marius!” M. Thenardier shouted as he ran out of his office to see the commotion. Marius hunched over and said nothing. Thenardier marched over and towered over him. “Marius this is the second time this week! I’ve lost mass amounts of alcohol since you’ve been working here! You’re somehow worse than Bossuet and he’s a train wreck!”

Courfeyrac stepped in front of Marius. “Monsieur, Marius is doing the best he can.”

“Courfeyrac, stop defending the boy! He’s a clumsy mess! He’s ruining my business!”

“If by ruining you mean increasing the number of regulars then yes, he is.” Enjolras piped up, looking directly over to Thenardier. Thenardier reeled back and glared at Enjolras. Enjolras met his gaze. They stayed like this for awhile until finally Thenardier threw up his arms and stormed out, grumbling about how he’d give everything just to ruin that pretty face of his.

Just as he stormed out, a man in a black overcoat strutted in. He looked particularly smug as he surveyed the room. He was very young looking. He had long lashes and soft, red lips. He was lanky but not very tall. If you didn’t know him, you'd wonder what a man like him was doing in a place like this. 

“You have the worst timing, Parnasse.” Enjolras said with a sneer.

“Ah, Oun-jol-raas.” He drug out the name as to almost savor each bit of it. “You tired of this place yet?”

“Go away. Your kind isn’t welcome here.” 

Montparnasse threw his head back and laughed. He smiled a grand smile which was enough to make a grown man quake in his boots. “This isn’t exactly Versailles. I thought Thenardier accepted all kinds around here.”

“As I recall, they’re one in the same. And I think he would object to someone whose goal is to take away business.”

“Thenardier and I are in good spirits. Not my fault it’s a tough world out there. A man’s gotta eat.”

“There are other ways, Parnasse.”

“Shouldn’t I be the one saying that to you?”

“Is that all you came here for? I turned a deaf ear to you five months ago. What makes you think I’ve all of a sudden changed my ideals?”

“The new semester is fastly approaching. Some extra cash would help pay for books and things, wouldn’t it?”

“Montparnasse, please leave, or I’ll have Combeferre escort you out.” 

Montparnasse scowled but obeyed. He backed out of the Musain and slinked back into the darkness. It welcomed him like an old friend. 

“He certainly puts the ‘ass’ in Montparnasse doesn’t he?” Courfeyrac retorted as he sat down in a chair pulled off his heels.

“I guess.” Enjolras said as he said down next to Courf.

“What does he want with you anyway?”

“He’s a pimp, Courfeyrac. I’m surprised you don’t know. All the ladies you see in the alleys at night, all the men you see on the corner before dawn, he owns them. All of them.”

“How is not behind bars? Prostitution is-”

“Illegal. Yes. But Montparnasse has a network. He has a whole team of urchins who tell him when to disappear. It’s like a choreographed dance routine.”

“He wants you to work the corners?”

“Yes.” Enjolras looked over at Courf and then stood up. He went over to a table in the corner and started to take down chairs. 

“Have you ever ?” 

“No. It’s a totally different game, Courf. I’m not going to risk my life just so I can make more money quicker.”

“You’re right. I’d miss you too much anyway.” Enjolras nodded and continued taking down chairs.

“We’d better start getting ready.” Enjolras said as he proceeded to take down the last chair. Courfeyrac nodded and they retreated into the back. They sat down to begin their nightly transformation.  
The ‘Powder Room’ as it was named, was basically just a huge dressing room the performers used to get ready. It consisted of a very old and vintage light up mirrored vanity and several dirty poufs, all of which were deflated to varying degrees. On the vanity, were many containers of foundation along with numerous lipsticks, pencils, and glosses. One enormous eye shadow palette sat in the corner. Most of the eyeshadows had been used up, many of the individual colors having holes in the middle of them. Next to the vanity was a clothing rack filled up with corsets, lingerie, jeans, and sequin shirts. Enjolras was filled with disdain as he looked upon his own corset. It was tricolour and was accompanied by red booty shorts. An embarrassment to the country he loved. But it couldn’t be helped. Enjolras sighed and powdered his face. He smeared on some blush and then applied an appalling amount of red lipstick. He then sighed and went over to the rack and picked up his corset.

“Courfeyrac, could you tie me off please?”

“Sure.” Courf said as he grabbed the two laces and pulled tight. Enjolras sucked in his stomach and stood straight up as Courfeyrac tied him up.

“Does it hurt?” Courfeyrac asked he slipped on his shirt. It was a shiny white button up. Not that it mattered. Courfeyrac usually ripped it off five minutes into his routine. 

“It did. But not any more.” Truth be told, the corset was more a straight jacket for Enjolras; and not just in the literal sense. When he put it on, it bound his spirit. He was no longer the fiery Enjolras whose soul and spirit and passions radiated from him. He was Enj, the cold, robotic, lifeless, showgirl. That corset made him into everything he hated. It was a wall between the real Enjolras and his little facade. 

Jehan rushed in, late as usual, and almost ran into Courfeyrac. Courf giggled and gave Jehan a pat on the ass. Jehan’s cheeks were already pink from his rushing around but now they turned red. He quickly took off his shirt, a horrible floral print button up, and looked around for his corset. Enjolras was holding it in his hands. He handed off to Jehan who slipped it on hurriedly. Enjolras then proceeded to lace it up. Jehan winced when Enjolras pulled on the strings. He tied them up and left Jehan to get the rest of himself ready. Jehan was one of the few who actually liked dressing up. His corset had a sweetheart neckline and was tapestry print. He wore black lacey panties under it. Jehan slipped on the underwear and then went to do his hair. He was the only one who spent time on it. Courfeyrac just mussed his and Enjolras just brushed out his shoulder length blonde locks. Jehan took it to another level though. He usually put his long, brown hair up in a ponytail and then continued to braid flowers into it. Fresh cut flowers usually, as Jehan had cut them from his own garden. This took fifteen minutes, so the three usually chatted a bit about the morning and waited for Feuilly, the last of the group to get there.

“I was in the park today and they’ve decided to plant a bunch of violets. They’re gorgeous and will really help the bee population.”

“Is that why you were late? Ogling the flowers again Jean?” Courfeyrac asked with a playful smile.

“No, no. It was such a gorgeous day out that I decided to go out there with my blanket and maybe get some writing done. And it was so peaceful that I just, fell asleep.” Here even Enjolras managed to laugh.

“What about you Enjolras? You were here pretty early today.”

“My civil procedure class cut out early and my property teacher is out sick. Plus I really didn’t feel like going home, my landlord has been on my ass all week. I’m only two weeks overdue. Some of his tenants haven’t paid their rent in months.”

Here Feuilly entered, his particularly peaceful self. He greeted everyone and and went in back to grab his firefighter jacket. It wasn’t a real one. Just some cheap costume one that Thenardier had ripped and dirtied up. Feuilly was like Enjolras in a way. He hated stripping for a living yet he was trying to make his way through school too. Except that he had actually grown up poor and orphaned. Everything Feuilly had he had obtained by himself. Enjolras was the same except he came from a line of rich ancestors. His parents had thrown him out when they discovered he had wanted to be a prosecutor. Studying to be a lawyer was okay, just as long he wanted to be defense. Being the parents of a prosecutor was something that his parents just didn’t want. And so, they threw him out with five bucks to his name, forcing Enjolras to get a job anywhere that would take him. And it just so happens, this was the place.

Feuilly had come here looking to be a bouncer but was roped in as a performer with false promises of a pay raise. No pay raise ever came and yet Feuilly was still bound to being a performer. Much to his disdain, due to his ginger hair, Thenardier thought it’d be ‘appropriate’ to make him a firefighter. As he switched into his black jeans, he started to laugh.

“What’s so funny, firefighter Fred?” Courfeyrac asked.

“If there’s ever a fire, I know I’ll be safe from burns in my firefighter jacket.” He joked.

“Or more at risk,” Enjolras started, “I’m pretty Thenardier sealed in those ‘burn’ stains with an aerosol sealant. You might just go up in flames.”

“Are we all going to ignore the fact that he wears nothing under the jacket.” Jehan laughed, as he finished up braiding his hair. Everyone laughed as Jehan got up and Feuilly smeared a bit of charcoal on his face. They all stood there then, chatting, as the other guys came in one by one. They weren’t performers, per se. They were the typical strippers that appeased the men every night. They went on first and collected their tips. When it was time for the performers to come on, they went in the back and waited until they could leave. They were mostly snobby and paid no heed to the four performers. Which is why Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Jehan, and Feuilly had become best friends. They were all they had in this place of sweat, sighs, and euros. 

“Hey, some people are starting to trickle into the bar. Might want to start wrapping it up and getting out there.” Combeferre said as he stepped into the room. The strippers shook their heads and went out to do their daily work. Combeferre stayed back. He was dressed in his usual attire: a black v-neck and black jeans. He was built and was very tall, but a gentle soul. But it was looks that mattered. And Combeferre made a hell of an intimidating bouncer. His auburn hair was combed back and he was still wearing his glasses. Enjolras had struck up a friendship with him when he found out that he too was going to law school.

“How is everyone tonight?” There were collective ‘goods’ and one ‘hella fresh’ from Courfeyrac. “Good. Hey, I overheard Thenardier on the phone. Apparently, there’ll be some rich guests coming in tonight. You guys better be on your game.” 

 

Grantaire did not want to take part in Bahorel’s little ‘excursion’. He found strip clubs demeaning and volatile. And to add insult to injury, he was just feeling generally depressed. Even if this place was fun, he wouldn’t enjoy it. Grantaire doesn’t enjoy anything. Not even his art, which has got him to the place he is today. Grantaire had just sold a painting to the governor which was a high achievement. And to celebrate, Bahorel had invited him and his friend Joly, out for the night. He had failed to mention at the time that they were going to the Musain, though. And now he was stuck. 

“Bahorel, I thought you were straight. Why are you taking us to a gay strip club?”

“I am, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate hot dudes. And besides, this is your night, not mine. And it’s not ‘gay’, per se. There are chicks there. And yes, gay men, which means that hey, you might find a date. And as for the strip club, you rarely eat and despise bars, I thought this was the way to go.”

“But, really?!”

“Hey, I’m trying to show you a good time.”

“It won’t be so bad.” Joly piped up, “If anything you can just sit in the corner with your drink.”

“See,” said Bahorel, clapping Joly on the back rather hardly, “He knows what’s up.” Grantaire just grumbled as they continued their walk to the Musain. Upon arrival, Grantaire immediately sat down at the bar to order a drink. A bourbon and coke, extra bourbon. Joly sat next to him. The bartender, a balding man, got one out to him quickly.

“And for you, monsieur?” He asked Joly. Joly smiled shyly. 

“A tequila sunrise. But, um, the glass you use, could you wash it out and then wipe it down with a disposable paper towel? It’s a, um, sanitary thing.” 

Bossuet smiled. “Sure thing.” He then went to get a glass and just as he was about to stick it under the sink, he dropped it. It shattered on the floor and caused a few patrons to look over in surprise. Bossuet attempted to pick up the pieces and in doing so, sliced open his finger. 

“Shit.”

“Oh my god, stand perfectly still! I think I have some bandages and antiseptic here and um, oh good, uh here.” Joly motioned for Bossuet to come closer. He then proceeded to sterilize the cut and wrap it up. He stepped back and looked up at Bossuet. “You’re going to have to replace that bandage in a couple of hours. Oh and I might I suggest wearing a glove when you mix drinks. Sanitary reasons.” 

“Monsieur, you may have just saved my life.” Bossuet exclaimed as he took Joly’s left hand with his good hand and kissed it. Joly smiled shyly. “If there’s anything I can do to repay you, please let me know.” 

“Well, you make me that tequila sunrise now. Although that wearing a glove thing was less of a suggestion and more of a command.” Joly said. Bossuet smiled.

“Of course, Monsieur ?”

“Joly.”

“Bossuet.” he said as they shook hands. Grantaire, who had been watching the whole thing, groaned and went to find Bahorel. He was up front, talking to the man at the next table about god knows what. 

“Hey. Joly’s being all fairytale.”

“Really?” Bahorel replied, craning his neck. “Huh, Joly got game.” This made Grantaire scowl even more. 

“And now, gentlemen. Ladies. The plat de resistance. I give you act one, Firefighter Fumeur and the Coeur.”

 

Enjolras sighed and looked in the mirror one last time. Feuilly and Courfeyrac’s performance would be over with soon and then it would be him and Jehan. They were on the last song now, How To Be a Heartbreaker by Marina and the Diamonds, which Enjolras found to be highly ironic. It was nearing one am but they always went on late at night. Thenardier liked to put him and Jehan on last because usually everyone was so drunk they mistaked Jehan and Enjolras for females. That kept the straight men happy and appeased the few drunken gay women they got in occasionally. Suddenly there was a round of applause and Enjolras knew it was time. He adjusted his corset and turned to look at Jehan. Jehan gave him an encouraging smile and off they went.

“And now, act two, the crowd favorite. Lady Patria and Femme Flora.” Thenardier shouted out with great gusto. Again there was applause as Enjolras and Jehan stepped out on the stage. Enjolras blew a kiss out to the crowd and Jehan put his hands on his hips and leaned over just enough to show some chest. The thing about corseting was that even men looked like they had cleavage. Enjolras went to work swinging around the pole and being generally flirty. Jehan was working the crowd by laying near enough to them where they could stick dollar bills in his panties. Enjolras wrapped his legs around the pole and leaned back, grabbing a tip from a particularly flustered young man. He stuck the money between the corset and his chest and winked. He then got off the pole and slapped Jehan’s ass. As Enjolras was about to work the other side of the stage, he caught sight of a man staring up at him as if he was the second coming. 

“You’re beautiful.” He mumbled when he saw Enjolras’ eyes on him. He immediately looked down as Enjolras furrowed his brow. That was certainly a new one. Usually they were just vulgar remarks at the expense of his femininity. He had never been called beautiful before. Suddenly Jehan disrupted his thoughts by returning the favor and slapping Enjolras’ ass. Enjolras almost jumped. He then went for the pole and continued with his routine. He did the splits just as ‘Papaoutai’ began to play. The choice was so ironic that Enjolras wanted to cry from laughter. 

He and Jehan collected more tips as the performance went on. Finally, their time was up and they both bowed and collected the last of the tips. When they retreated back into the Powder Room, Courfeyrac rushed to give them both hugs and Feuilly gave Enjolras a pat on the back. 

“Another day done, you guys.” Courfeyrac said as he hung tight to Jehan. Jehan smiled and patted his chest. 

“Yeah,” Enjolras said a little absentmindedly. He was still thinking about the comment the one man had said. 

“Something wrong, Enjolras?” Jehan asked.

“No. Nothing.” I’ll be heading out soon.” He said as he sat down to take off his makeup. 

Beautiful. He was beautiful.


	2. Chapter 2

"Bahorel, he was a modern day Apollo, a mortal Helios. He shone bright against the black that was his environment. He was beautiful, the true Arete. He was the mist that you see before Eos blesses us with her presence each morning. He is the streams of light you see pass through a stain glass church window. He is the ache I feel in my soul as the beast, Pothos, takes over me.” Grantaire spewed, hardly taking a breath during it as they strolled around the park.

“Whoa. Bro. Chill. He’s stripper.” 

“Oh but he’s so much more! He’s-”

“You’re not going to start that again, are you?”

“You’re right.” Grantaire said as he deflated a little. “He is a god amongst men and I am, me.”

“Hey now,” Bahorel said as he stopped to pat Grantaire’s shoulder. “R, I guarantee you that if you deliver him that spiel you just gave me, he’ll be putty in your hands.”

“But I have not much to offer him. I have money, but,” Here Grantaire trailed off.

“R, please, come off it. You’re a prodigious painter, hell of a boxer, great dancer, and from what I just heard there a poetic little shit. And I say that as a term of endearment. Grantaire, you have more than enough to bring to the table.” Bahorel said as he managed to look a sulken Grantaire in the eyes. Grantaire met his gaze. “The only thing I’m concerned about is his, ahm, employment status.” Here Grantaire scoffed and turned his head.

“You’re just like all of them, Bahorel! This class system of who is deemed appropriate and who isn’t is total bullshit. Just because someone struggles for money and someone has it handed to them does not make them less of a person. There is more to life than money. Even a cynic can see that.”

“I know Grantaire, it’s just, what if he’s unattainable?” 

Grantaire said nothing. Bahorel sighed. He cared for R deeply. It had been awhile since he had fancied anything besides his art. And he should be happy for him. But, Grantaire, while all together still smart and artsy, was very cynical and sardonic. To see him open up like this, well, he just didn’t want to see him get hurt is all. 

 

Enjolras was at Musain early. Not by choice, of course. He needed a shower and the water company had shut off his water. Enjolras had used the excuse that he was going to practice new moves on the pole. He had no intention of doing so though. He was going to take a quick shower, put on a good sweater, and then use the last of his change to get a coffee. Suddenly, Thenardier barged in as Enjolras was attempting to towel dry his hair.

“Enjolras, I have added a scarf to your routine. It is mandatory and part of your ensemble now. Good day.” Thenardier said curtly as stepped back out of the Powder Room.

“Wait, Monsieur, what about our raises?”

“We are still...negotiating.”

“Lies. Monsieur Valjean would have agreed wholeheartedly if you had just explained.” Enjolras spat, rising up from the pouf he had been sitting on. 

Thenardier puffed out his chest. “You dare call me a liar, show boy?”

“Yes. It is not an insult, only the truth.” 

“You are pressing your luck here, Enjolras.”

“Then fire me. But you know you can’t. The patrons live for my routine. You take that away you’ve got nothing. All I ask for is a little equality and you’ve got to go and be ignorant about it. Fine. If you won’t do anything, I will. I’ll go straight to Valjean myself. And I’ll tell him everything.” Enjolras’ gaze never wavered as he delivered his speech. Neither did Thenardier but he was starting to sweat.

“You know nothing.”

“Oh, but I do.” said Enjolras coldly. “I know that every month or so you hand over a stripper to Montparnasse. Then whatever he brings in, you split the profits between the three of you. I do not think Valjean would appreciate such underhanded business, especially when it takes away from his own.”

Thenardier was silent. They stared each other down for a moment when all of a sudden Thenardier backhanded Enjolras. Enjolras tumbled to the ground and held his face. “Don’t you dare ever speak to me like that ever again you swine. I will get you and your whores your raise. But if you ever speak to me like this again or try to undermine me I will make you wish you never survived.” He then swiftly turned around and walked toward the door. Enjolras was still on the floor, holding his face. Thenardier stopped before he exited the Musain. “Oh and Enjolras, you can tell your precious Valjean about this. I’ll say you attacked me. That you’re a crack whore. And then I’ll have you disposed of. And then Valjean will forget about it the next day. He’ll forget about you, too. You’re replaceable Enjolras. Here, and in life itself. And don’t you ever forget it.” And with this, he strolled out. 

A few minutes later, a young man with mid length brown hair strolled in. When he saw Enjolras on the floor, he immediately ran to his side.

“Oh my god, are you all right?! What happened?! Oh dear, we better get some ice on that before it bruises. Oh you poor thing.” He helped Enjolras up and seated him at the bar where he went behind it and found the ice bucket. He placed a handful of ice in a rag and held it against Enjolras’ face. Enjolras leaned into it. 

Just as this was occurring, Bossuet walked in. When he saw them, he immediately dropped his bag and went over to see what had happened.

“Enjolras! What happened?! Why are you here so early?!”

“I came to use the hot water.” Enjolras replied, purposely skirting the first question. Bossuet nodded unsurely and turned to the man.

“Joly, I-thank you.”

“It’s no problem. I saw the poor dear on the floor and well, it’s good doctor training.” Joly said, offering up a weak smile. Bossuet gestured for Joly to sit down as he took the rag from Joly and continued to hold it up to Enjolras. Joly complied and took a seat next to him. 

“Enjolras, maybe you should go home and rest. If you don’t feel like driving, I could drive you home and Joly could follow in my car.”

“No, that’s alright Bossuet. I’ll drive myself. Thank you. And thank you, Joly.” Enjolras said as he shook hands with Joly. Enjolras then got up and left, feeling the eyes of the two men on him as he went. He got into his car, a 2005 Ford Focus which was a scourge onto the environment, and drove home. He was furious. Thenardier hadn’t won. The war had just begun. 

 

Grantaire was debating whether or not he should go back to the Musain that night. He really wanted to see that stripper again. His hair was beautiful waves of spun gold and his lips were ruby red; rivaling even dear Snow White’s. His eyes burned bright with such an intensity and fire behind them that he had to capture it on canvas. He had been sketching him all day; but he needed one more look to actually create a masterpiece. A masterpiece. pfft. Grantaire snorted and threw his empty bottle of wine. He wasn’t capable of creating a masterpiece. His art was shit. That governor who had bought a painting? He was shit. He had bought one of Grantaire’s ‘emotion’ paintings. It was just a bunch of red paint that Grantaire had ‘pollucked’ onto a canvas when he was enraged. The man thought it was abstract. That’s the thing about being an artist. You spend your whole life wanting for people to buy your art and then when they do you hate it. You hate the buyer, the art, yourself. Because that painting doesn’t mean anything anymore. Because every ounce of yourself you put into it is lost on the buyer.

Grantaire sighed and stood up. He went over to the mirror and looked himself over. His eyes were puffy and red and he looked worn and weary. His green v-neck was splattered with black paint. He hated the way he looked. He was ugly. Compared to the stripper, he was a train wreck. He sighed more heavily and pulled off his shirt. He grabbed a cigarette and went to go take a shower. 

 

“I’m thinking about doing a bondage thing.” Courfeyrac said as he layed on the floor. 

“Courfeyrac, you’re a performer, not a whore.” Feuilly chuckled as he flipped through an outdated magazine. 

“I’m only a whore if I say I’m a whore.” Courfeyrac replied with a wink. 

Very swiftly, Enjolras entered the Powder Room and immediately started to apply make-up. Feuilly and Courfeyrac didn’t seem to think anything of it but Jehan saw. He looked like he was about to say something, alarm splaying across his face, but he took a deep breath and helped Enjolras apply blush.

“You’re late, dear. Some of the others have already done their thing.” Jehan said, his voice wavering a bit.

“I know. I got caught up in some reading.” Enjolras said coldly as he went for his corset. He slipped it on and had Jehan tie him up. He ran a brush through his hair and turned to face the mirror. There had been a bruise, but it was nothing a little foundation and blush couldn’t cover. He silently thanked Joly for his help. He then turned around to face the others. They were all staring at him now.

“Enjolras, are you alright? You don’t seem…. yourself.” Courfeyrac said sitting up.

“I’m fine. Just tired. And upset. We should have pay raises. And a better dressing room! This place is falling apart.” 

Realization washed over Jehan’s face as he nodded. “ I know. It’ll happen, all in good time I suppose. Valjean is coming in next week. Maybe you could talk to him? Until then, I don’t think talking to Thenardier is...healthful.”

Enjolras nodded. Suddenly the call for Feuilly and Courf to go on sounded and they were gone, leaving Jehan and Enjolras alone. 

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” Jehan said in a furious whisper. 

“I’m trying to get some respect.”

“But that is not the man you go to for respect!”

“He’s the only option right now.”

“Enjolras, I’m scared for you. You and I both know the things Thenardier does.He is an awful man, and you don’t go pissing him off.”

“I know, Jehan. I’m just so tired.”

Jehan’s face softened and he looked up at Enjolras. “I know, dear. Just take it easy, all right?”

Enjolras sighed. “I’m trying to.”

“Enjolras, I’ve got some money saved. I don’t really want nor need it. I could loan it to you and then you could pay me back once you get back on your feet. Or you know, once you talk to Valjean.”

“I couldn’t do that Jehan. We’re both struggling here. It would be wrong for me to.”

“Enjolras, there are things you don’t know about me.” Here Enjolras raised his eyebrows. “I will tell you all in good time, but that’s not what this is about. The fact is, I have money that I don’t need. You need money. I’m going to loan you four hundred dollars. That should be enough to get you by until pay day.”

“How do you-”

“Like I said, all in good time. Now we better get ready. I hear ‘Homewrecker’ playing and I think that’s their last song. I guess they’re sticking with a Marina and the Diamonds theme.” Jehan said casually. Enjolras didn’t know how to respond. He simply nodded. He grabbed his scarf, it was red chiffon, and draped it across his shoulders.

“That’s new.” Jehan said as he eyed it.

“It’s a new prop apparently.” Enjolras said under his breath. “Guess I’m going to have to get creative with it.” At this Enjolras scowled. 

Jehan chuckled. “Well that’s the spirit.” 

Enjolras smiled slightly as they went to do their performance. 

 

Grantaire almost lost it right there in the audience. The stripper, ‘Lady Patria’, had come out looking as radiant as ever. He now had a red scarf which he was being delightfully flirty with. He would use it to swing around the pole and use it to tie himself to the pole. The other one would come and remove the scarf only to twirl around with it. His Apollo would then grab the scarf and bite down on it, running it across his teeth. It was beautiful and arousing. As Grantaire watched, he began to become more and more nervous. He planned on approaching him after the show, if he could. Originally he had just wanted to get a close up look of his face but now he was thinking differently. Maybe, he would ask him out. On a date. Grantaire turned his attention back to the stage. They looked to be finishing up, some of their moves just being simple pole slides and tip grabs. Grantaire leaned over and threw some money up on stage. A few seconds after he did, Lady Patria’s heel came down and the money and he slid it towards himself. He crouched down to collect the money and when he did caught Grantaire’s gaze. Grantaire quickly looked away but then looked back to find the stripped staring at him. 

“Hi.” R said weakly. The stripper’s eyes grew wide as he stood up quickly and paced to the other side of the stage. 

 

“Great show you guys!” Courfeyrac said as he patted Enjolras on the back. “The scarf was a real show stopper.” Enjolras smiled faintly while Jehan laughed. 

“Maybe I should get a scarf.” Feuilly said playfully as he hung up his jacket. The conversation died a bit as they each undressed and got ready to go home. Enjolras was the first to be ready. 

“So Jean,” Courf said as he pulled up his pants, “I was thinking that maybe you and I could go get some coffee tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry, Courf,” Jehan started as he unbraided his hair, “I’m busy. I got this poetry thing.”

“Is it open mic? Maybe I could come.”

“I’m sorry, dear. It’s a private thing. You how eccentric poets are.” Jehan said as he patted Courfeyrac’s cheek. Courf’s smiled faded a bit but he quickly regained his spry. 

“Okay, maybe some other time.”

“Hey guys,” Enjolras started, “I’m going to head out.”

“All right Enjolras,” Jehan said as he gave Enjolras a hug. “You take it easy.” Enjolras agreed as the others said their goodbyes. 

Enjolras waved goodbye to Combeferre as he walked outside to his car.

“Lady Patria?” Came a voice from the shadows. Enjolras quickly turned around to see a man approach him. He had a wild mess of hair and piercing blue eyes. He had a weird expression on his face. 

“Yes.” Enjolras said rather defensively. 

The man stepped back. He was under a headlight now and Enjolras could see his features more clearly. And that’s when he knew.

“It’s you. From the audience. You called me beautiful. And gave me the tip today.” The man’s eyes grew wide and he nodded. 

“You are beautiful. You’re exquisite.” He said breathlessly. Enjolras was speechless. He stepped back and was about to just get in his car when the man continued. “Wait, don’t go I- I’m Grantaire and I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with me sometime.” His eyes were pleading. 

Enjolras lowered his head. “I’m sorry.” He said as he got into his car and then drove off. 

Grantaire watched him go as all the life drained out of him.


End file.
